LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

My name is Carla. I was raised by parents who were strong believers in corporal punishment. It's fair to say that I was spanked on a fairly regular basis and usually by my mother. Many a time I was over her lap while she applied the business end of a wooden spoon to my rear end. Of course, they were delivered to my bare bottom and she was very thorough. There was no such thing as a few swats and then being sent to my room.

That hard object would have connected many, many times by the time she considered the spanking over. However, as bad as they were, the ones I really feared were from Dad. I hated it when she would say the dreaded words, "We'll see what your father has to say about this when he gets home."

She may have thought it was a cute euphemism for saying that I was in for another spanking later that evening, but I never saw the humor in it, and as I said, it was going to be a second spanking for the same offense. I was usually over her lap when she let me know the spanking she was about to give me was not going to clear the slate. Rather, it was just the beginning of my penance, and she never felt it necessary to go easy on me just because I was due for an extra long and very painful session with Dad that evening.

If anything, I think she would spank me harder so I would be exceptionally well prepared for the first kiss of the brush on my backside. That was his choice as the most effective implement. He would use my own well loved and very expensive hairbrush.

I got it as a present when I was very young and at first I was thrilled. It felt so grown up to brush my hair with it. However, it wasn't long before I found out it had other functions, and no matter how mature I thought I was, it could reduce me to a little girl getting a well earned spanking when it was wielded by Dad.

I still have it, and it feels so luxurious as it runs through my hair, but to this day I can't pick it up without remembering how many times it was in other hands and being used very effectively for its other purpose. I also have to chuckle when I think of yet a third method of utilizing my old friend, but I'll get to that later.

It wasn't only at home that my bottom and I would be on the receiving end of an attitude adjustment conference. I quite often stayed at my Aunt Joan's house when my parents went out of town. She wasn't really related, but was an old friend of the family and I always enjoyed myself when we visited her.